


The Garden and the Godmaker

by killyourstarlings



Series: A View of the Garden [2]
Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, F/F, Flowers, Fluff, Just a lot going on here it's a 3 parter, Lilith grows up flowers and swelters everyone, Past Relationship(s), Picnics, Religious Conflict, Thunderstorms, Zelda finds her powers fascinating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 13:45:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19746952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killyourstarlings/pseuds/killyourstarlings
Summary: She’d asked Hilda if she had seen it happen — asked her, “Hilda, have you noticed…”  And Hilda had looked up from her knitting with expectation.  “Noticed what?” she’d asked, and Zelda instantly willed to take it back.  But with some wrestling, she’d spat it out.“Have you noticed that flowers bloom, when she’s around?”(Or, three instances where Zelda learns a little more about Lilith and the Garden.)





	The Garden and the Godmaker

* * *

_Ain't it a gentle sound, the rolling in the graves?_

_Ain't it like thunder under earth, the sound it makes?_

_Ain't it exciting you, the rumble where you lay?_

_Ain't you my baby; ain't you my babe?_

\- “NFWMB” by Hozier.

* * *

It was hard to look at her, she was so _bright_.

Lilith glinted in sunlight and bounced it off in all directions, she its second moon, she its radiant messenger. She dressed in lighter colors lately, and it suited her; it cooled her off against the warmth she emanated, sweltered them all with. Her stare was the most arresting, aimed at Zelda with a degree of certainty — a quality of stillness that seemed uncharacteristic, but it was a signature of her growth — a landmark of how far she’d struggled just to find the peace most were born to know.

Zelda was convinced, at first, that she’d invented it all. And she didn’t know how to ask.

It happened slowly, even now, and only in the span of Zelda’s distraction (and those eyes were easy distraction, unquestionably). Little colors pricked up in her periphery, flooded the green with pale blues and whites and pinks, crowding around Lilith like children at her story or lovers at her window. The blooms even reached in her direction, pointed to their maker, or the object of their affections — and of hers, as well.

The universe adored her first, but Zelda contended for most.

She’d asked Hilda if she had seen it happen — asked her, _“Hilda, have you noticed…”_ And Hilda had looked up from her knitting with expectation. _“Noticed what?”_ she’d asked, and Zelda instantly willed to take it back. But with some wrestling, she’d spat it out.

_“Have you noticed that flowers bloom, when she’s around?”_

That earned her, as it well should have done, a horrible grin and a clicked tongue. _“That’s sweet, Zelda.”_

_“Stop that; I’m serious…”_

That conversation didn’t last long. Hilda took her for a poet when Zelda was more concerned with the magic at hand.

The longer Zelda considered it, she tended to believe Lilith didn’t intentionally do a thing like it. The colors flocked to her without a twitch of her finger, before Zelda’s eyes; and before her ears, now, insects buzzed about and birds sang in distant trees. She attracted sunbeams and lovely things — and Lilith would remark that this reflected on Zelda, and Zelda would shake her head and kiss the nonsense out of her mouth.

Lilith did it all so mindlessly, _existentially_ …

“What are you thinking about?”

Dirt crushed beneath their blanket, gave way to the weight of Zelda’s leaned wrist, and the arm buried under Lilith’s head. They’d settled a distance away from the family, who threw a ball around somewhere distant enough to be missed, but close enough to be heard on the occasion. Lilith’s voice floated on the breeze; her lips dripped around a grape and her eyes smiled up at Zelda.

She was warmth incarnate. Zelda was thinking about that.

“I’ll embarrass myself,” Zelda confessed, and tucked her napkin away, “if I say.”

This piqued Lilith’s interest, of course. She sat up on her elbow, sucked her finger dry — smiled, during. “I won’t laugh.”

“You’re smiling already.”

“I’m curious now.”

Zelda’s eyes narrowed. “You’re amused.”

“I’m happy,” Lilith said, full of an unbearable grin now. She fumbled for another grape and drew it to her lips, poised — and then her expression faltered. “Should I not be?”

The wind hit a little colder on Zelda’s arm; she shook her head, sat up straight.

“No,” Zelda reassured her with a sigh. “No, have your fun. I’m not telling you, though.”

Lilith cocked her head. “Oh, come on.”

“Absolutely not. It was silly.”

Huffing her frustration, Lilith reached for Zelda’s arm — caught at the top and stroked her way down, a languid touch, like sweat rolling down her skin. “Zelda…”

Zelda instantly tensed. She knew what came next.

“Don’t — Lilith, _do not_ do it.”

“Please?” Lilith asked in a small voice just at the base of her throat, hardly hitting the air at all — and _fuck_ , Zelda looked away. She wasn’t going to look…

Not a minute passed, and she looked. She couldn’t help herself.

Lilith sent up the most devilish pair of puppy eyes, blue and round and needy; her fingertips trailed up and down Zelda’s arms, drawing shivers out of her, searing her with humid affection. Her head tilted down over her shoulder to accentuate it all…

And it was over. Zelda couldn’t deny that.

“How do you do that?” she asked, finally.

Lilith split into a grin. “I think of something sad.”

“No- I know that,” Zelda said — she could see it in the blades of grass, drooping like teardrops at whatever Lilith had been thinking. “That’s not what I mean.”

And Zelda’s nerves must have shown through, because Lilith’s face fell to something more neutral. She bit at her lip, nodding for Zelda to continue — though that lip-bite incapacitated Zelda for a moment.

“I know you can,” Zelda began, cautiously. “I’ve seen it, so don’t try to deny it. I just want to know how it’s done.”

“How what’s done?”

“How do you make flowers bloom?” she pushed out, shoulders arched up with the effort of fighting herself. She averted her eyes as soon as the question hit. “Without a spell, without a move, you just… do it. You don’t even seem to _notice_.”

Lilith’s lips parted, stunned to silence, and Zelda worried she’d crossed a line. There was a line, there, though it was hazy — somewhere between the Lilith she loved now and the Lilith who existed millennia ago. Some questions were fair, and some were foul, and some sent Lilith so deep into her mind that Zelda worried she wouldn’t come back. And there was no metric for telling these apart, either.

Clearing her throat, Zelda softened the pressure in her tone. “It’s a wonderful skill, Lilith. I’d love to know it.”

The sun moved behind a cloud, and the earth went a little dimmer around them. Lilith’s eyes remained downcast as she picked at a grape, methodically peeling it back. A bird slowly resumed its song, behind and to the left of them.

“It’s not something I mean to do,” she explained, though she seemed to struggle with the phrasing, mouth uncomfortable around the words. “Something that happens, rather. It’s just… nature.”

“Flowers grow, yes,” Zelda said, still too impatient from all her rumination over this very topic. “But there weren’t daises around us ten minutes ago, and then you smiled.”

Lilith squinted at her, didn’t seem to register what was said — and then she furrowed her brow, sitting up to look around them at the field she’d littered with white speckles. She pressed her lips together, a hint of a blush sparking in her cheeks.

“It’s a reaction,” Lilith tried again, reaching out into the grass, “to me, to my feeling. I used to be much more in tune with it…”

She pulled a daisy from the earth, twirled it between her fingers, considered it like a jewel. Zelda watched her eyes, at first affectionate, growing dark.

“Hell, I used to grow vineyards.” Lilith tossed the flower back into the dirt. “Now I pluck up a few daisies.”

A frown, and Zelda had to bite her cheek to keep the words back. She sat stationary, a passive observer of the way Lilith disappeared into her thoughts, into her own legs — that same distant look in her eye, as though she’d been to some other universe and still went back, sometimes.

Perhaps she had. Zelda had no real concept for where she’d been, or what she’d seen — but she wanted one.

The blanket wrinkled under them as Zelda scooted closer, waited for Lilith to look up at her; and when she did, Zelda tried a smile. That didn’t play too well. Lilith put on her own false grin, stared down at her knees and waited for time to pass.

If she couldn’t draw Lilith’s gaze, she’d follow it. So Zelda set a hand on Lilith’s thigh to signal her incoming as she leaned over, resting her head down in Lilith’s lap — warm, relaxing under her and easy to fall into. When she peeked up, she found Lilith softened on her, looking down with love; and the ground seemed to rumble beneath them with her pulse, though Zelda was sure she imagined it.

“You’re a breathing miracle, you know,” Zelda said without thinking, blinking bleary up at her. She found the fabric of Lilith’s dress, played with it. “Every day, something disastrous and new.”

Lilith just huffed. “You’re lovesick.”

“Maybe so,” she muttered, gaze drifting over Lilith’s features. Her lips parted to ask for something — ask for a kiss, probably — but Lilith was already on her way down to earth, and everything crashed in with her.

Floods of heat rolled off their sides as Zelda met Lilith, suspended half-upright, though with passing seconds Zelda felt herself melting back into the earth, as a part of it. Lilith had that effect — just an ancient thing, a being with so much past, yet somehow so present, so _grounding_. Zelda could fly off in all directions with anxiety and rage and shame, and one kiss brought her down to stillness, filled her with heat…

Zelda only drew back when her neck ached; and as her vision blurred into focus, she found purple in her view. She lifted her head, up past Lilith’s knees and around to discover a swarm of violets, sprung up all around them.

Zelda grinned.

“Clever,” she said, and Lilith smiled at her delight. Behind her head, Lilith reached to pull up a violet or two, and began knotting them into Zelda’s hair.

And that was a funny action — it was fleeting, ripping a flower at its stem to gift it to a lover — strewing them in Zelda’s hair as though she’d ever let the family see her like that. But it was the impermanence, perhaps, that made it so appealing. It was a gift that wouldn’t last — something that would die, a novelty to an immortal being.

On bad days, Zelda wondered if that was her own appeal.

“I love you,” Lilith said, in true romantic fashion, and threaded a stem through a red curl, a brilliant smile on her face.

On good days, like today, she knew there was so much more.

* * *

_I know that look, dear, eyes always seeking —_

_Was there in someone that dug long ago._

_So I will not ask you why you went creeping;_

_In some sad way, I already know._

\- “Like Real People Do” by Hozier.

* * *

Sometimes, Zelda was content just to watch her.

The sun bore askance on the whole field, save the speck of Lilith at its center, knelt into the dirt and ground rough against a borrowed pair of jeans. From this distance, she could be observed in her activities — rubbing her lips together like kindling, brow furrowed low in focus. She glistened with sweat as summer heat poured along her skin, hands shaking a bit from effort — a little dirty, a little muddy, and a little perfect in her own way.

Lilith tossed loose bits of hair back over her shoulder and worsened her posture. Her gaze locked intently on a pile of dirt, wrists tensed in some kind of magic…

Sometimes, Zelda had no idea what she was doing.

A puff of smoke obscured her vision for a moment; she squinted through the trails, leaned back against the table. The wood-stain already wore away from how often she found herself in this position — attention rapt, observing Lilith at work in the garden she’d adopted.

(In all honesty, though she’d never say it to a soul, Zelda had first envied Lilith and Hilda’s little garden project. Now, she found it simpler to take a cigarette and enjoy the view. There was something to it — something about Lilith by herself and under no gaze — hands and knees, working her heart in two over something Zelda couldn’t _see_ …)

Something went flying. Zelda shoved the smoke away, narrowed her eyes.

Off went the second glove, then, thrown in the other direction with an audible groan. Lilith wiped her face with dirty hands, swiped at her eyes as if to catch tears. Her shoulders caved, upset, or faint from heat.

Leaning forward, she bit at her tongue and waited for a sign that she was all right. When those shoulders started to jolt, Zelda snuffed out her cigarette and pushed off the table.

She marched out of the house, wincing against the squeal of the screen door — and hells below, it was _smothering_ outside, an instant wave of angry heat smacking her in the face. Shut behind her, she started down the porch steps, hand seared at the railing and avoiding it from there out. She thudded her way down the path — blinked bright swirls from her eyes, trying to bring Lilith into view…

Lilith’s head perked up at the sound of Zelda’s approach, but she pretended not to be aware of her presence. She sat statue, though her shoulders were worse for shaking; and as Zelda grew near enough to hear, Lilith went silent.

“Suspected I’d find you here,” Zelda lied as she trudged up next to Lilith — just a little fib, so Lilith wouldn’t call her on spying. “Hard at work?”

At Lilith’s side, she leaned down and laid a hand on Lilith’s shoulder, planted a kiss in her hair; and Lilith refused, still, to turn. Her attention was locked downward, unwavering.

Craning her neck, Zelda sneaked a peek at Lilith’s face — and there, she found fresh tears in her eyes, sticky paths through the faint streaks of dirt on her cheeks. Zelda sank.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, burying the frantic quality in her tone.

Lilith averted her eyes further, so that Zelda _couldn’t_ catch her gaze. Her hands shook over themselves.

“I can’t… it’s…” Lilith wiped at her mouth, sighed. “It’s not right.”

Eyes narrowed, Zelda followed Lilith’s eyeline down to the soil.

A tiny bloom of a flower had made its home in a pile of dirt, something crossbred and wonderful and strange, entirely unfamiliar to Zelda. The petals looked soft to the touch, halo-like, tapered and small. She drew a breath and detected something sweet, saplike — and surreal, as though Lilith had discovered a new species, or…

“Lilith,” Zelda breathed, the realization of what she’d done come full force. “It’s beautiful.”

Lilith simply shook her head — Zelda’s lips parted to protest-

“Look at it- it’s all there,” Lilith stuttered, gesturing to her other side with one hand, the other rubbing her eyes. She sniffled. “It’s right there, it’s- in my head. I _remember_ it.”

Zelda looked over her shoulder and noticed an open notebook laid out in the grass. She raised an eyebrow — knelt down to get a closer look at the drawing, folded her legs neatly beneath her. She dragged the notebook to her lap, let the sunlight hit it.

A gorgeous illustration of a flower had been sketched along blue ladder-lines, with the usual fury of eraser marks left in Lilith’s wake. The colors burned against the page, bright and intense and certain, like a vivid memory — the patterns memorable, the petals full — unlike anything Zelda had ever seen before today. Her fingertips traced the drawing, followed the lines like a map.

“What is it?”

Lilith huffed a breath, ground her palms into her knees. “He never named it. He never… saw it.”

And her voice took that foreign tone — that glaze that hit her whenever she looked back, whenever she spoke of the past. When she spoke of him, or her, or Him, it came packaged with a nervous lilt and a hint of wishing, or regret. Zelda didn’t know how to navigate these stories, except to listen.

So, with a patient breath, Zelda asked, “Was it yours?”

“Hers,” Lilith muttered, numbly. She caught a tear on her finger, shook it off. “It was hers.”

She spoke with the grief of losing someone adored, and Zelda didn’t have to ask to know that.

Her gaze drifted in zigzags back and forth between the drawing and the resulting tiny bloom — both beautiful, and quite similar in most ways — a difference or two that only Lilith would have noticed in all her staring. Somewhere amidst the two, Zelda noticed Lilith’s burnt-red fingers shaking in her lap, exhaustion drawn all the way up to her shoulders. Her skin went a bit red under the heat, the rays looming down on her.

She’d bled herself dry over this; she ached, and Zelda ached for her, wished to fix it somehow.

Instead, she decidedly plucked Lilith’s hand from her lap, and met no resistance in doing so. She folded it neatly within her own and lifted it up to her heart, for the comfort of it being there, for the constance of its beating. She waited, silently, as Lilith steadied herself before chancing a look at Zelda…

When Lilith finally met her eyes, Zelda melted. She couldn’t keep herself from reaching out, brushing Lilith’s hair back from her glistening cheeks.

It was there that Lilith’s lips trembled, and Zelda felt her own heart breaking.

“Lilith,” Zelda said with a sigh — stroked her hair back, and let her cry at this distance. Lilith tried to turn away, but Zelda followed her. “Darling, don’t torture yourself over this. You’ll figure it out.”

“I can’t do it,” Lilith mumbled over herself, grimacing at the tears she wanted to fight. She cleared her throat, shook her head. “I can’t. I’m not sharp enough — not anymore.”

Zelda sat up indignant at that. “Lilith, you’re sharper than anything. You’re a god.”

“I’m not.”

“You _are_ ,” she reiterated, with confidence to strike down a lion — even wrenching Lilith’s hand with passion. “Please, give yourself a little grace. For my sake.”

The shame was that even though Lilith hummed her agreement, Zelda knew she wouldn’t go easy on herself — as a choice, or for the fact that she wasn’t even listening right now. Her eyes were locked on the damn flower, tears breaking so loose that she couldn’t hide them anymore. Perhaps it was for that reason that she turned and slumped into Zelda’s arms — perhaps, but Zelda collected her anyway, like myriad broken pieces.

It came to her shoulder, then. “I used to be more. I wish I could show you.”

More of Lilith might have broken Zelda in two, but she kept that to herself. She kissed Lilith’s head, smoothed it over with her fingers, whispered, “You will.”

A long silence passed, Zelda stroking at Lilith’s back as she grew comfortable in place. Lips stamping into Lilith’s hair, she pecked along until she found her ear, and kissed that, too — smiled when Lilith laughed hoarsely, and kissed her again. For a moment, there was stillness.

The heat did fade into nothing now as afternoon faded away, sun sloping down behind them and casting shadow beams on the little bloom at their knees. Zelda observed it kindly, the unwanted thing, still thriving in her new environment, still beautiful.

“It’s all the time, isn’t it?” Zelda thought aloud, resting her cheek against Lilith and inhaling. “Missing her?”

Another silence, and her heart only beat again once Lilith responded.

“Only sometimes,” she said, with a hint of a sad laugh, “now.”

* * *

_Her fight and fury is fiery_

_Oh, but she loves like sleep to the freezing —_

_Sweet and right and merciful,_

_I’m all but washed in the tide of her breathing._

\- “Cherry Wine” by Hozier.

* * *

When she woke, she woke alone.

Thunder plagued the night, rumbled overhead and pounded against the roof to rouse her to a dim room, painted deep blue through sheer curtains. Clouded moonlight poured over Zelda’s skin and cast it aglow in the dark; she watched her own arms flash with a strike of lightning, blinked blurs from her eyes and slowly drifted in place.

Zelda rolled half-out of her dead sleep, arm tossing over empty space and mindlessly clawing for a piece of Lilith to hold. This was reflexive, whenever a thunderstorm bothered their night — a lesser fear of Lilith’s, but a fear nonetheless. The shivering would keep her awake if Zelda didn’t have a hold on her…

Only after a dozen or so tries did Zelda decidedly lift her head from its resting place, to squint around for the missing Lilith. She found the bed beside her empty, much like her stomach, and both were quick to ache for Lilith’s return.

 _Bathroom,_ Zelda thought, and rolled back again.

Rain slapped against the window, eased her ears down from roaring, captured a rhythm in her mind. A dull bar of black eked out under the bathroom door, strange to her. Lilith loathed the dark — lit nigh-every part of the house whenever she woke.

A beat passed — an appropriate period of waiting, in case Lilith should return at any moment and curl into bed again — before Zelda decidedly threw the covers off. Toes hit the cold floor and she shuddered, swiftly missing the warmth of a shared bed. She rubbed at her eyes and padded blindly across the room…

With a big yawn, Zelda knocked at the bathroom door. Silence echoed back, and only that.

“Lilith?”

Silent as death. A rush of concern hit her like vehicular collision, but she bore it back down to slight nerves.

For fear of risking anything, Zelda cracked the bathroom door open — allowed fuzzy navy light to hit the bathroom, and found it empty as it came. Her chest seized; she forced a breath out, when she’d forgotten to take one in first.

_Nighttime snack._

Measured breaths in and out, she crept to the bedroom door and creaked it open, a titmouse tonight. She tiptoed into the hall, careful not to wake anyone and embarrass herself for her own worrying — because it was silly, to leave bed and search after Lilith, her own whole and capable person. But weather shook the house and Lilith was no fan of that, and to be off on her own, in the dark, was unlike her.

Rather, it was perfectly like her, but only when something went wrong.

At the top of the stairs, Zelda stopped to pace herself. She gripped the railing and leaned over, whispering down the steps, _“Lilith?”_

A harsher drove of raindrops sliced the rooftop, her only reply. Zelda screwed her eyes shut and fisted her hands, reminded herself not to panic as she took that first step downward.

_She wouldn’t just leave._

Zelda’s scan was, admittedly, frantic as she peered through the darkness in search of any moving thing. Dropping off the last stair, she held to the railing — dug her nails in as she called again, a bit louder, “Lilith?”

Nothing.

Zelda’s hand shook on the banister.

 _She wouldn’t leave me_ , she reminded herself against the anxiety settling at the outskirts of her mind. A peek into the kitchen, and not a sign of Lilith remained — no crumb of cereal or cabinet left open. _She wouldn’t. Of course, she wouldn’t…_

_Of her own volition, she wouldn’t._

That had Zelda in knots and shoving off the wall, on a beeline to the door. Her internal voice could be heard begging for something which she didn’t know how to verbalize — for Lilith to be here, somewhere — sitting on the porch, maybe, watching the rain…

Behind the door, torrential rain splashed onto the porch and squished against muddy grass, an assault of sound all at once. The screen door screeched open and Zelda stepped onto the porch, avoided the line where dry wood met wet. Her head whipped around for-

“Lilith,” she breathed, finally, at the sight of a half-asleep Lilith in her pajamas, curled up on the porch swing. She sat perfectly still, stared off numbly into the night — and she didn’t turn at the call of her name, though perhaps she hadn’t heard over the big-band percussion of thunder and rain.

“Lilith?” Zelda tried again, a bit louder. Lilith didn’t even rock in the swing, catatonic.

The night was frigid with raining, and Lilith didn’t shiver.

On a slow approach to the swing, Zelda kept herself gentle so as not to startle Lilith, who wouldn’t tear her eyes away from whatever she watched. Her steps groaned against the soggy porch floor, until she reached Lilith’s side and took a hesitant seat next to her…

No movement, not a word. Zelda followed her distant gaze out to the lawn, directly to… the garden.

Her lips parted, but she couldn’t think of anything to say. She had a million questions, but none of them were right, or necessarily fair-

“I had to watch over them,” Lilith explained, lips barely moving — eyes blinking lazily, though she kept vigilant even at this hour. Her hair had been wrecked overnight, stuck up at all ends and almost comical for some other time.

Though she felt unsure of anything she said now, Zelda did inhale, and try.

“Lilith,” she began, while her hand cautiously found Lilith’s unreactive lap. Zelda kept her eyes locked on Lilith, though she received nothing in return. “It’s rain. Plants need rain.”

“It storms when He’s angry.”

It was said so matter-of-factly that Zelda had to believe it, but in such a dazed tone that she wondered if Lilith even knew what she was saying. Her skin paled with patient horror, before Zelda’s eyes.

Without explicit permission but hopeful for it anyway, Zelda reached an arm across Lilith’s back — spread her fingers over her skin and ignored the flinch of sudden recognition. Her teeth sank into her lip as she studied Lilith for signs of life, and only found a tremble in her bones.

“He can’t hurt you now,” she said with all the confidence Lilith didn’t have in herself, and stroked down her lower back. She spoke softly, melting with the rain in the gutters. “You’re stronger.”

“I grow fucking _flowers_ , Zelda,” Lilith snapped, and looked at her with horrified tears in tired eyes — and her stare was blue, and ancient, and mortal. “I’m not a god. I’m a fool.”

And it was her words, more than her breaking voice, that cut Zelda to her core. That terror was infectious; Zelda’s hands started to shake, but she wrestled it back.

Clearing her throat, then, Zelda flattened her palm on Lilith’s spine and looked her over. “Can I…”

Lilith nodded on instinct — and her head sank against Zelda’s shoulder, a star to earth. Zelda reached an arm around Lilith, as far as she could, enveloping her in an embrace against the soaked night; and she was _warm_ , somehow, despite everything. She was a being of love and she couldn’t be cooled down to ease.

“Darling, you,” Zelda began hoarsely, and had to clear her throat again. She ran gentle touches along Lilith’s side, caught at her hip and drew her in closer. Her head turned to whisper in Lilith’s ear, quietly enough that only she could hear, and not the storm writhing overhead. “You are… everything. And if you’re not a god, I swear it, I’ll _build_ you into one.”

Lightning pierced the sky, close enough to shake the swing into motion — and Lilith jolted in her arms, eyes squeezed shut, breath choking in her throat. Electricity charged the air, wind pushing against the house as if an angry set of eyes were on them, sending down rage and envy and bloodlust. If Zelda didn’t have Lilith’s hand in hers, ground tight to the pulse in her wrist, she might have felt a tinge of fear.

Maybe they _were_ faced with the wrath of something. Maybe, without the Dark Lord or the False God at their lead, they were truly alone together. And maybe Lilith knew that, and felt it on her shoulders.

But Zelda resolved that if she did anything with herself, it would be to take that weight _off_ her — to make her feel guarded, by some grace, by some mortal strength she had in her — and to make her feel strong enough to guard herself from old ghosts. Because even if she weren’t a god, yet, she was strong enough to bring one of them to His knees already, and that had to count for something.

“It’s all right…”

Lilith’s breaths grew a bit steadier now, body slowly lost of its tension as the thunder grew less frequent, inverse to Zelda’s repetitive touch. Zelda leaned down to kiss along her neck, whispering her love between the lines, one and two and three…

“Now, come to bed, please,” Zelda drew back to plead, as Lilith settled into her shoulder. “The rain will stop. I promise.”

Lilith was silent at that, though she did stir a bit — sat suspiciously quiet, as though she had something to say — as though she would apologize for her fear, or for haunting Zelda with it — as though she would blame herself for the safety they couldn’t have, because Zelda chose her dog in the fight…

But she looked up at Zelda, then, and their eyes locked in something understood. Zelda’s hand came around to her chin; she gave her a slight smile, a reassurance that she was exactly where she wanted to be.

And Lilith squeezed her hand, and started up to her feet.

* * *

When she woke, she woke alone.

Sunlight dripped into the room through the window, in long yarn streaks where the curtains bent and bowed. The house rested quiet, not even a clink of a dish interrupting the peaceful lull; birds sang and gods smiled and everything was as it should’ve been, and she was awake early, but she didn’t care. It was the weekend, and the morning was all theirs.

One long yawn, and Zelda squinted up at the pale ceiling, watched it dance. She rolled out of her dead sleep, arm tossing over empty space and mindlessly clawing for a piece of Lilith to hold…

She didn’t find Lilith there — and it was a wonder the bed was so warm without her, but then, everything felt sweltering when Lilith was in a good mood. Instead, her hand caught on something soft; and she turned her head to look for it.

There, she found the short stem and full bloom of a beautiful and familiar flower, colors burning against the sheets, bright and intense and certain and lovely. The patterns were just as intended, Lilith’s delicate hand at work again — a fourth attempt, and on their last hopes, Lilith growing frustrated while Zelda held down her balloon and reminded her, _patience, patience_ …

But there it was, after all this time — that first ancient sign of aching, now her sign of love, resting in her bed where her Lilith used to be.

Smiling to herself, Zelda drew the flower up to her gaze and inhaled; she sighed at the smell of nearly-maple, and held the flower comfortably to her chest. It was warmth incarnate, heat rolling off its sides as it bloomed further to her touch, her Lilith, her magic…

Her vision fell off the petals, then, and fixated on the doorway — leaned against the doorframe, a perky and proud Lilith, watching with a soft smile in her face. She looked on her work with a swollen heart, something she’d done so mindlessly, existentially.

She bore all the softness of a successful god. She _was_ a god, and Zelda her godmaker.

“I knew you could,” Zelda said, breaking the silence that sat upright between them. She straightened against the headboard as Lilith approached the bed — pulled the covers back to make space for her. “Didn’t I say so?”

Sighing, Lilith slumped to the sheets. “Yes, you did, dear.”

Zelda watched her with a playful gaze, voice crackling from morning to perfectly hit her teasing tone. “So I was right, wasn’t I?”

Lilith hummed, reached out to fiddle with Zelda’s hand — the one that didn’t clutch at the flower for dear life. “Mm, yes, dear.”

“Almost as though you should listen to me more often,” she suggested, brow raised. Lilith groaned and drew her in by the hand.

“Never, dear.”

**Author's Note:**

> Okay! So this wrote itself in a few days and I couldn't stop it -- and it all came from @maggells, who had the wonderful thought of Lilith making flowers bloom when she's happy. And these three parts came to me pretty quickly, so I planned them out and here they are and I hope you enjoy! If you have the time, you could leave a review and make my day? :D


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